


The Worst Kind of Ghost

by FireSoul



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Crisis on Infinite Earths Crossover Event (CW DC TV Universe), F/M, Missing Scene, crisis spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21745126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireSoul/pseuds/FireSoul
Summary: Sara is done.It's only been a few hours, but already this Crisis has taken from her the one thing she never thought she would lose: Oliver. However she can't mourn him, because she has to worry about his daughter throwing him into a Lazarus Pit. Now, as if that isn't enough, Earth-74 has decided to throw another sick joke at her. A sick joke fate has already played on her twice before.She can't take this joke again.
Relationships: Sara Lance/Leonard Snart
Comments: 20
Kudos: 77





	The Worst Kind of Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, spoilers for Crisis and Leonard's involvement with it ahead.

As Mia walks away Sara takes a deep, deep breath.

It has been a day.

With Ollie’s death, the Crisis, and now Mia and Barry have decided they want to drop Oliver in a Lazarus Pit and she swore she would _never_ let anyone she loves go into that God forsaken thing but… She’s here, isn’t she? She’s here, and it wasn’t an easy road but she’s OK now, right? And Ollie… He’s twice as strong as she is. Plus he hasn’t been dead for a year like she was, only a few hours. It could…

She puts her face in her hands and leans her elbows on the table, how is she even considering this?

“If I could make a suggestion…”

She jumps.

She jumps, she even screeches a little bit, and she whirls around on her feet with her eyes scanning the library around her but… She’s alone.

“Sorry.” His voice, again, from everywhere and nowhere, much like…

Oh you have got to be kidding.

“Leonard?” She asks, a new level of defeat in her voice, as she directs her attention to the ceiling.

“Yes, sorry. I assumed the Waverider of your Earth had an AI to maintain its systems as well.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, a hysterical smile on her face for all of one second.

“We do.” She says, “Just... Not you. If that makes any sense.”

“Some.” Comes the drawled and even layered reply. It makes sense to him, but her reaction to him is still a little overboard to him because _he doesn’t know._

“Ok.” She says, more to herself than to him. “I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?”

No. No. She is not having this conversation. She throws up her hands with frustration and her eyes locate the brandy cabinet; at least this Earth’s Mick hasn’t polished off all of that yet.

“This.” She says, marching for the cabinet and all but throwing it open, grabbing the biggest bottle inside. “Look, it’s a long story. Give me ten minutes and you can make your suggestion, and we will act like this conversation never happened. But until then don’t talk to me. I’m not trying to be mean, I just need to think.”  
She waits a moment in the doorway of the library for his reply, but when he doesn’t give one, at least she has something today she can be grateful for.

She marches through the halls of the ship – identical to those of her own – with the bottle to her lips. When she finally reaches the furthest, tiniest, most untouched cargo bay in the whole ship she collapses rather ungracefully onto her ass and sits against a crate; eyes already pinched tight with tears rolling down her cheeks.

She shutters, her mouth a firm line and… and…

She gasps out a sob.

The bottle staggers in her grasp, amber liquid periodically splashing out and over her hand until she dredges up the good sense to put it down; she’ll choke if she drinks it now anyway.

She sobs harder, louder, and if anyone hears she will deal with them. She hugs her knees and leans forward, barely managing to not fall over. Eventually she looses that battle and crashes to her hands and knees, her face beat red and tears streaming freely.

“Damn.”

She looks up, and it’s fucking Mick standing there in the doorway with a beer. Except it isn’t Mick. Not her Mick. It looks like him, sounds like him, even fucking drinks like him. But it isn’t him.

Her Mick could see her like this. Her Mick would get it. But this Mick? She sits back on her knees and sniffles up the tears, wiping away what she can.

Mick watches as she does. He stands over her and watches quietly as she collects herself, until she is nothing but a beat red face and downcast eyes, and then he comes and sits next to her.

“Never thought I’d see that.” He says, “You’re different than my Blondie.”

She chuckles, which surprises them both, and she adjusts herself to sit properly with her back against the crate and legs out in front of her. Even once she’s settled she take a moment to breathe, and more importantly, to reclaim her pilfered bottle and take a swig.

“Been awhile since I heard Blondie.”

He looks at her from the side of his eye, his face long and questioning, and she can’t help but smirk.

“Don’t worry.” She promises, “You’re alive on my Earth, and we’re close.”

At first he looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that, much like she imagines her Mick would.

“What’s he call you, then?”

She shrugs, “Boss, sometimes Sara.”

He looks even more unnerved by that than the revelation that they’re close on her Earth. He takes a long sip of his beer, then rumbles as he puts it down.

“I called her Boss once.” He muses, more to himself than to her. “Should‘a done it sooner. She earned it.”

She shifts just a little to the side and leans her head against the crate. She can tell by his tone what that means, she doesn’t _have_ to ask.

“What happened to her?”

He’s kind enough, at least, to direct his grimace at the label of his drink and not her.

“It was supposed to be me.” He says softly, and she knows that look. He’s here with her, but his mind is in a dark moment some time long ago. “She knocked me out, made Lisa take me back to the ship.”

He doesn’t finish; he doesn’t need to.

“On my Earth.” She finally says in a soft voice, but one that draws his undivided attention. “Leonard was a person, and he knocked you out. He told me to get you out of there… Then he blew up with The Oculus.”

Mick looks a cross of surprised and… and he understands. They each take another sip of their respective drinks.

“Sara and Leonard…” He eventually rumbles, “My version, anyway. Sometimes I think she forgot he ‘s not a person. Not in the way that would’ve counted, that is. I know if he was…”

He looks at her then, a question in his eyes, silently asking if she seized the opportunity his Sara had been denied by fate and technology.

She blinks away the tears still in her eyes.

“We didn’t have enough time.” She croaks, her voice suddenly unsteady once again.

She takes a minute to compose herself, to straighten up and wipe away the tears and to drink another long swig. He waits patiently, watching her the whole time but waiting.

Eventually she pulls the bottle from her lips and she shutters, her face red again and her eyes squeezing shut as she thinks about it. She has to look up to blink back the tears. She has to think of other things. She has to think about the baby dragon running amok on her ship in this very moment. She has to think about trivia night, about anything and everything that has absolutely nothing to do with Leonard Snart, until she can finally trust her voice enough to speak of him, and all the punches to the gut she’s been dealt since his death.

“I lost him.” She finally confesses, and her voice still isn’t steady but at least the words are semi-clear. “But that wasn’t enough.”

She sniffles.

“A year after I lost him… We fought The Legion of Doom, and they pulled him from the time stream two years before The Legends were even a thought. Two years before he knew me. So when we beat them I… I had to… I had to wipe his memory, and put him back, to die.”

She barely sees Mick’s eyes widen through the blur of her own tears.

“Then months after that, we went to Earth X and he saved our lives. Only it wasn’t him, it was Earth X’s him, and not only did I have to deal with him during that mission but after he… He decided to come live on the Waverider, my Waverider, for a few weeks.”

She is nothing short of blubbering by this point, but Mick doesn’t make a single even hint of a comment and instead waits quietly for her to get herself under wraps enough to finish her story.

“Then, finally, _finally,_ I made it through a year, one year, without being taunted with some… other version of him. I didn’t have to hear his voice or see his face and have it not be him and have to hide how much it hurt. I was finally moving on.”

She shutters and throws her hands, slamming them down in pure frustration.

“Then I’m brought here.” She says. “Here. By a man who can teleport himself and others between dimensions with a thought. Who brought a super villain back from the dead. On a quiet, almost abandoned ship, where there is no enemy actively trying to kill me, and I hear his voice. And I know, _I know_ , it won’t be but maybe, _just maybe…_ ”

She cuts herself off with a shutter, pressing her hands against her mouth for a moment before brining them back to her lap. When her next words come out they are barely anything more than a squeak.

“But nope. He’s the fucking AI.”

There is no holding it together at this point, but she still tries, until Mick finally moves and puts his big arms around her and starts pulling her into him. She is still perfectly aware that this is not her Mick, but she lets herself fall into him despite that, or maybe because of it. All she really cares about his her head crashing against his warm chest and the fact that he lets her soak his shirt with her tears.

She doesn’t know how many more “not-Snarts” she can take. At least with the other people she’s lost the universe lets her move past it. But Leonard… he’s turning out to be the worse kind of ghost. The kind that keeps coming back, except for he never really does.

Mick strokes along her shoulder blades and hums into her ear until she’s all cried out and even after that they don’t move. He’s holding her tight, and she gets the feeling that a part of him is pretending – at least wishing – she could be his Sara. She doesn’t have to imagine what he would give to have her back, to hold her like this; she would give even more for Leonard.


End file.
